Eyes Like Yours
by Sasukeluva 4eva
Summary: He searched high and low over vast kingdoms for those oh so familiar deep emerald orbs, but he never quite managed to find the same ones’... Atem x OC Masika
1. Chapter 1: Future Pharaoh of Egypt

**a/n: MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I'm back!! I'll betcha thought I was rotting in some hole, hunh?! Lawl, nah, jokes minna! Still! I seem to have this imperishable desire to keep writing new fics, whilst leaving the old... heheh! I apologise, but I have been long since plagued and swamped [literally] with new ideas that BEG to be printed on paper (when I SHOULD be doing important assignments... whoops!), so here I am again! And don't be surprised if you see several other new ones pop up too; I AM working on fourteen (I think it's seventeen now...) NEW fics, so... O_O  
BUSY doesn't even CUT IT; well, I DO (heheh, if you out there understand the hidden meaning), but that isn't safe discussion topic, now is it?! So, without further adieu! **

**Disclaimer: Counts for any future chapters; IDNOY-G-O, BIDHTOS...AY! That is all.**

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_Summary: He searched high and low over vast kingdoms for those oh so familiar deep emerald orbs, but he never quite managed to find the same ones'... Atem x OC (Masika)_

NOTE: Future lemons—be advised

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_**Eyes Like Yours**_

_Atem x OC fic_

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Chapter 1

Future Pharaoh of Egypt

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Children were scattered for vast miles over the expanse of the palace, laughing and frolicking as they mingled with fellow companions, all bathed in a heat wave so profoundly torturous that even they dared venture near the Nile to bathe and cool off, unawares to the constant danger that surrounded them; crocodiles of all sizes and shapes lurked beneath the murky depths, preparing to pounce on their unsuspecting victims, their future meal, whilst they themselves turned a blind eye to the carnivores' that had gathered on the closest banks and of course settling underneath the fogged liquid.

A commanding shout resounded through the lush clearing, the startled children turning only to see their High Priest, Mahad, running toward them, several of his guards following faithfully; their master was, after all, only a child of fifteen himself.

"You there! What do you think you children are doing, bathing in the very waters that are infested with Sobek's offspring?! Out with you, lest you be devoured by the crocodiles!"

They listened without second of thought, screaming as they darted up the slippery, mud-caked banks of the river, said reptiles bursting forth from the water and snapping their narrow jaws viciously, unappeased by the cruel turn of events; there escaped yet another easy meal.

Mahad sighed and shook his head in stern disapproval, keen to leave and tend to more pressing matters, like nursing the young prince of Egypt; an easy smile made its way to the dark haired boy's face, setting his features ablaze against the ruthless glare of the Sun, sapphire eyes glowing as he turned on his heel, striding with strong purpose through the scarcer areas of his country, many poor and sickly lying on the streets awaiting the embrace of Anubis—death seemed to be the ideal means of escaping poverty, and as much as Mahad hated it, and how strongly his Pharaoh felt about it, there was little to be done about the festering predicament. He sincerely hoped that one day someone great and powerful would traipse along and save these people from their suffering, the inhumane trials that they need face every day of whatever lives they lead as individuals or otherwise—that person could very well be his young prince.

As Mahad pondered idly on what there was to be done in the temple, as well as with his young master's hectic schedule, from the corner of his brilliant cerulean orbs, he noticed a young woman, around his age, maybe a few years younger, tending to the fast diminishing elderly, whom clutched her hand gratefully as she cleaned their sores and welts, her back to him as she muttered incoherent words of comfort to them; he felt the sudden urge to stop and look for a moment longer, but duty called, and Ra would be offended if he be kept waiting any longer –he being Prince Atem-, so the dark haired priest continued on, sentries glued to his side as they scouted the area with their sharp eyesight; Osiris commend them for their strict dedication to their master.

The rough scuffling noise of the three men's sandals grating at the broken, craggy earth was what soon became a monotonous symphony, dull and bleak as they marched onward toward the palace—that's when it happened. The young woman that had been tending to her seniors was thrown so violently that she stumbled into the path of Mahad and his men, only to be seconds later accompanied by the dirtiest of decayed water, colliding with her petite frame and drenching her from head to toe, the remains of what appeared to be rotten food scraps and other stale materials clinging to her flesh as she tumbled to her knees, shaking with horrid tremors as she raised her head to meet the gaze of a drunkard—only later did Mahad realise that he was her father.

"You little whore! Touching those disease-infested maggots! Have you no shame?! Do you wish for us as your family to contract their sickness and have us meet our end at the hands of Anubis?! Amun punishes thee for their sins and condemns them!"

Tears streaked down the ebony-haired girl's cheeks, her shaking only growing worse as she nodded dumbly, numbed with fear too much to comprehend; her father was worse than Seth himself! Nobody could strike fear in her heart more than the man of her conception, that she was sure of.

"Now look at where you have landed us! In poverty, all because that stupid slut of a mother of yours fell to Taweret and her incessant calls of implantation, _you_ being the result of _that_, of _another_ man!"

The man slurred slightly, stumbling forward before yanking at her long, black locks, tugging with enough brute force alone to tear it from the very roots had she not been clawing at his hands to stop him; her screams and his actions were enough to provoke Mahad, as he was at her side in an instant, tearing the older man's hands away from the sobbing, hysterical young girl's hair and throwing him back into the nearest clay-brick wall, hand gripping his throat in an iron-like hold until the man spluttered and viciously lashed out, only earning him two swords at throat, courtesy of Mahad's sentries; he growled and spat foul expletives, the profanities an offence to all mortal, God and deity alike—Mahad's temperament escalated as he hissed lethally, "The words that thou has uttered have not gone unheard by the Gods; the Pharaoh himself shan't be pleased when I report the ferocious assault upon this young lady, all unsheathed by the pathetic mundane affront me—speak or do unto others' ill-will is an offence that shall not be taken or looked upon lightly, and by the word of Ra I promise thee nothing of remote repentance. You will rot in the pits, and they shall consume you whole, as it should be."

The man trembled feebly as he raised his eyes, only to have them widen upon the sight in which had imposed upon his space; with thick stutters, the pin-thin 'father' blurted out none-too-gracefully, "Y-Y-You're! Y-Y-You're Pharaoh Aknamkanon's High Priest!"

Mahad's icy eyes narrowed as he glared through the slits, his canine teeth becoming more prominent as he growled in hushed undertones that frightened even the largest of men within vicinity.

"Yes, and what of it? What difference does it make now upon who I am and whom witnesses this appalling act of brute superiority, when it would have been reported just the same? My liege shall not be pleased in either case, seeing as he is renowned for his kind and caring prowess; you are warned from here on—if even a single thread of hair is out of place when I return here, the consequences for such actions will prove _dire_."

With that, Mahad dropped the man until he had slidden to the craggy, sand-deprived earth, eyes watering as he nodded avidly, brown orbs darting from his frame, to that of his guards (more accurately their weapons), and finally lay them at rest upon his daughter, whose face and skin altogether was smeared with thick traces of soot and dirt, the former tears lost with the sudden act of kindness that this stranger had shown; from his appearance, the girl assumed that he was of royal lineage, or was extremely important and of high-class stature, the way he acted and spoke only proving that he was educated to the highest of degrees and regards—before her family had gone bankrupt, they had been living in middle-class accommodation, with the essential needs that an education could provide.

Yes, she was smarter than most, but surely she could not compare to that of the man that now walked toward her shrunken figure, not at all in any shape or form; but she could dream never the less. Kneeling carefully, so as to not wrinkle and crease his attire, Mahad reached out a tentative hand, brushing her ebony locks from her face as he gingerly cupped it, rubbing his smooth thumb against her cheek in a soothing manner, managing to bring a surge of scarlet into her face, heating her soft flesh until it was clear even amongst all the grime that stained it; amused chuckles could be heard from the two sentries as they muttered something about that being a 'typical reaction to his flattering charms', all the while sheathing their swords and standing at post on either side of the now unconscious man at their feet—it was clear that he was more than 'highly inebriated.'

The brunette smiled fondly as he tilted her head as if to inspect it for any underlying damage; aside from faint, faded bruises (for which he swore silently to Ra that he would punish her father for) that tainted her tanned skin, nothing of significant value was upheaved in his exploration—thank the Gods for that!

"Are you hurt anywhere, little one?" Mahad murmured softly, smiling when she flushed an even darker shade, before shaking her head from side to side, indicating nothing of the matter at hand; the relief that washed over him was astounding, but he simply convinced himself that it was for the girl's wellbeing in general, and that had he been dragged into another similar situation, he would have acted same accordingly—it was just within his nature to do so.

An amused smirk followed moments later when she realised that she had been rubbing her face against his hand without being the wiser, embarrassing herself further when she clutched his hand and opened her mouth to speak, only to receive no words of gratitude, nothing; it just hung there, wide and gaping as she struggled internally for the right thing to say—when faced with someone of high intelligence and education, it was strenuous to collect yourself as well as the appropriate words of thanks; they seemingly escaped her wits, and burned her tongue whenever she attempted to speak them.

It must have been the Gods sign to her, an indication, that she was about to make an utter fool of herself if she said whatever had come to mind at the time, so she simply stared at him, mouth hanging agape in the midst of it all; Mahad at this point chuckled lightly, before removing his hand and gently smoothing out her inky black hair, the evident signs of knots riddling their depths grating roughly against the surface of his fingertips—this poor girl didn't even have a comb to keep her hair silky and even.

"What is the name that you have been blessed, little one?" The dark haired teenager questioned cautiously as he awaited her reaction; the heat that had formed in her cheeks, when finally simmering down, flared to life once more, painting her cheeks a pleasant shade of red—Mahad was coming to like this colour with keen fervency, especially on her.

"I-I-I-Isis! My name is Isis!" Said girl stuttered in fright, terrified and embarrassed of her first and most likely last confrontation with the young man before her; he simply let his eyes warm, various shades of blue tinting their depths—icy blue, cerulean, sky blue, sapphire, laps-lazuli, azure. So many colours that reflected so many different emotions, personalities; it had Isis enthralled, lost in the pools of cyan as she felt herself slowly slipping away from reality. Mahad had noticed her sudden distraction, and slowly eased his hands to hers before helping her to her feet, the bare soles scarred with cuts and calloused skin; not only did she live in poor conditions, but she had to deal with the lack of food, water, clothing—all basic necessities were out of reach for her, so close, yet so far away from her world, and Mahad's heart bled for her suffering, as well as all others' in her predicament.

The time had come for immediate action—drastic measure was all that could save these people from extinction.

"A fitting name for one as beautiful as yourself; I pray that thee takes all opportunities that rise by the horns, and not let go—a better life is what you deserve, so use your willpower and strive for success and fulfilment. I assure thee that there is nothing to fear, as I, High Priest Mahad of my liege Pharaoh Aknamkanon, shall always be here to assist. You have my word."

And with that he bowed gracefully, his towering height despite his age making her seem more elfin than normal, as he bent and raised her right hand, pressing his lips in a chaste kiss to the back of it, the heat that flooded to every pore of her body making her feel warm and fuzzy all over; with a final smile of silent encouragement, Mahad turned to his entourage, whom moved to his side instantaneously, and from there they took their leave, the dark haired boy throwing one last glance at the young girl wearing nothing but a potato sack behind him—he would come for her one day, that he would, and save her from her poverty-stricken lifestyle that she wallowed in currently; he would make sure to see to it most indefinitely.

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"Mahad!" A familiar, boyish cry of delight was heard from the very fringes of the palace's gates, a young boy with inflorescent multicoloured hair waving and jumping around like a madman, bless his soul; he indeed was overjoyed by the appearance of his best friend, whom was also considered quietly as his 'big brother' when no one else was present—Mahad truly adored the young prince, that he did.

The smile spread instantly across his face as he covered more ground, his pace quickening into a slight jog as the steel gates slowly opened, the boy nearly beside himself with excitement; the minute those gates were fully out of the way, the prince darted from his traditional spot, bolting as quickly as he could toward the older teen, whom had started in a similar fashion as he—they ran toward one another, seemingly for an eternity, before the gap was closed and the young boy was in Mahad's strong and very capable arms, lifted in the air as arms wrapped around his neck.

"My liege, I have returned to your side."

"Mahad! I ask nothing more of you than to simply address me by my given name, not by a title that I do not wish to adhere by! Please!"

The boy pleaded, violet eyes shining in the strong light that the Sun produced, beating against their skin until it began to redden and swell; Mahad's concern for the prince and his skin care became prominently obvious as he completely held the boy to his frame and walked onward, striding through the gates toward a shady area in the Pharaoh's private gardens—only he, along with a few select key figures in society were gained admittance to this closed off space.

The pair sat together under awning on the cemented bench, gazing out to the exotic plants that graced the luscious sanctuary, for many hours they did not know, but long enough to have the prince doze off into a light slumber; with a small smile, Mahad uttered quietly, so as to not awaken him, "Of course, Atem, my little brother, and the future Pharaoh of Egypt."

The dark haired teenager failed to notice the small smile that spread across said boy's face as he too met the world of tranquil slumber, where the two played games for endless hours, never once for a moment apart.

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**a/n: End of chapter 1; Future Pharaoh of Egypt! I hope that this wasn't too dull, as I wanted to introduce the main people first of all, before my OC, whom will become a major part of this story's completion; I hope that you have enjoyed this so far! ^.- Until next time!**

**Ja! x)**

***-Sasukeluva 4eva-***


	2. Chapter 2: Coming of Age

**a/n: Well, here we are again! I apologise for the delay... hmmm... maybe I won't say that, seeing as I haven't had any notification whatsoever that this fic is even being read, not even a story alert... that's another low blow to my ego... not that I ever had one to begin with... *sigh* Anyways, for any out there who have bothered to pick this up, I give you the second chapter! Enjoy!**

**NOTE: There is a several month jump from this chapter to the last one!**

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Chapter 2

Coming of Age

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Atem swung his legs idly from the balcony of his living quarters, boredom shining in his lidded, violet eyes as he gazed out at nothing in particular; his father, being the Pharaoh, had too much on his hands to fit in even a little time with his son, and be that as it may, it left the young boy of ten with nothing else to do to quell his lack of entertainment—Mahad was quite disgruntled with the fact that he had to leave the young prince by himself to his own devices, but his first and foremost duty was to his liege, and that would remain the same until the day the young boy ascended the throne as the newest King of Egypt, so he had left with a heavy heart.

Atem stifled a yawn as he watched his father's people scuffling throughout the dust-laden streets, children playing freely even amidst the sweltering heat; what he wouldn't have given to have had the chance to play alongside them, even for a short while. But that was not permitted, as the son of the Pharaoh was not to associate with anyone of lower status; he and his young mind failed to understand what was so wrong with letting him play with other children of his own age. His father had been dead set on having him sharpen his skills with weaponry and war-stratagem, as well as enhance his intellectual aspects, so it wasn't surprising that he had no real friends, nor any time to be a child himself; was it so wrong to desire to be like every other young youth out there?

Letting out a wearied sigh, Atem stood, dusting off his tunic before turning on his heel, the hard gold of his sandals digging into his smooth heels as he slowly paced the expanse of his room, patiently awaiting the arrival of Mahad; it was times like these that had him miss the man all the more—when he was so close, within the vicinity of the palace, yet not by his side, it made the young boy more anxious, flitting around his room with reserves of energy he had had no idea that he had until that very moment.

Well, all was well he supposed, seeing as the Pharaoh was preparing Mahad's ascension to manhood; he had finally turned sixteen, whilst leaving Atem behind all the more; his only friend, and the person he loved the most, had many more years experience on him, and it was more or less likely that he had tired of the young prince's company, and wished to seek out those of his own carriage.

That thought was not only unsettling, but unbearable to process, was painfully cruel—he did not wish to be left alone anymore. After his mother had passed of illness, and ever since his father had preoccupied himself with his kingdom, and the needs of its people, Atem had been left alone, Mahad thrust upon him with the charge of continually serving and protecting him from harm; he did not do it because he wished to—he did it because it was his edict.

Tears burned in his eyes as he thought of Mahad's kind, loving, heart-warming face, always smiling at him even when injured, and he could take it no longer; if he could not see the man that meant the most to him, then he would see to it that he went to him himself.

Even whilst under the strict decree of his father's will, Atem stealthily slipped out of his guarded room without any being the wiser, creeping silently down the carved stone hallways, blending with the large, thick foundations that shrouded almost every inch of every passageway as he clambered down many long, tedious stairwells, violet orbs burning with determination as he launched himself down them, making sure to be as quiet as possible; it became harder with his pure gold sandals, as well as the guard that constantly patrolled the area for any immediate threats, maids and servants scurrying sporadically in every direction, which meant only one thing—his father was surely nearby.

As if on cue, the loud, booming voice of the Pharaoh himself echoed down the hallway, his boisterous laughter mingling with that of the raucous chuckling that erupted in tow; Atem _swore_ he could make out several distinctly female titters in the background...

Stiffening when one of the scouts turned in his direction, Atem dove behind the largest and closest foundation he could find, sitting with his legs loosely sprawled beneath him as he gazed tensely at the carvings and hieroglyphs ahead, hoping that his quickened breaths were not noticed; when the sound of laughter grew closer, the young prince couldn't help but find himself insanely curious about the nature of their row, and pushed himself upward, weaving through the poles in the cover of shadows, ignoring the hair-raising spine-tingling sensation that arose with the darkness.

His father had told him many stories as a child, all revolving around the demons that lurked in the Shadow Realm, always waiting for fresh meat, more ghastly than that of the faithful servants that served them, their 'monsters' summoned from the other side used to battle enemies and comrades alike; the greatest mass weapon the Egyptian people had behind them—the destructive force of the Gods themselves. Their 'duel monsters', as they had become referred to as such, were all that stood between world peace and constant war-torn welfare; they were two sided swords, and if used correctly, would continue to serve faithfully, but if used for the wrong purposes... mass destruction was something that would have been preferable to all, that was for sure.

Atem shook the feeling of dread from his frame as he peeked around the corner, the sight he was graced with bringing an illicit gasp from his lips; Mahad stood there, tense and obviously uncomfortable, as many women, what appeared to be a harem of sorts, were draped all over him, barely any coverage obscuring their shapely bodies from view, rendering them nude for all to see.

Atem clamped a hand over his mouth as he spun back behind the obelisk, blush burning behind his neck, smothering his cheeks and burning the tips of his ears as he clamped his eyes closed, his hearing refusing to switch off as he listened intently to the whores' gushing sweet nothings in his friend's ears.

If now was any time, he would have barged in demanded them off him, lest they be thrown to the lions. But he could never do that, not with his kind nature.

"Well now my boy! Today you ascend from a child to a man, and in order to fulfil this transition, there will be a few _requirements_ that need to be met; select a woman of your choice, as after tonight's festivities, you will have the honour of bedding them."

With that, a choked gasp of horror left Atem's lips, his violet orbs shooting open upon hearing of this news; he may have only been a boy of ten, but he knew of this 'bedding', and everything involved—apparently the pleasures of this act in itself was enough for the body to crave more, and if that were to happen, then Mahad would never be in his sights again! He would be too busy consorting with and humping those foul temptresses to ever want to see _him_ again!

The alerted sound of Pharaoh Aknamkanon questioning the guards as to the source of his little squeak startled Atem out of his reverie, leading him to then proceed in bolting in the opposite direction, slipping through the dimly lit hallways as lithely as he could before squeezing his small figure out of one of the fissures in the wall, leaving him exposed to the relentless rays of the Sun, beating down on his tanned skin as he continued to run, all but forgetting and relinquishing any thoughts of boredom from his mind.

Once at a safe distance from the looming palace, Atem collapsed under an apple tree, sprawling his sweat-slicked body down on the green lush grass beneath him, eyes closing as he breathed in thick mouthfuls of air, his wheezing and rasping echoing loudly in his ears; once his breathing had calmed, the young prince went back to thinking about what his father had said to Mahad, the announcement ringing bleatingly in his head until it began to give off a dull throb. How could he do this to him? How could his father purge him of the only friend, _brother_, he had ever known?

How was it fair when he had no one else to socialise with either way?

It was either his studies or his pre-war training, that was all his father ever cared about; if he didn't succeed in everything that he did, then he was a shame and outcast in the proud Pharaoh's eyes, and no matter how kind a man he may have been, when it came to his son nowadays, it was either make it or break it—if he turned out to be a failure in his father's eyes, then he was as good as dead, ostracised by all of every distinction. Atem dearly missed and loved the former image that his father had projected, all the times when he had taken a tumble, he had always been there to break his fall, no matter how much there had been for him to do; in those days, _he_ had come first, _before_ all of their people.

It may have been selfish of Atem to put his own peoples worth next to that of his own, but when it came down to it, wasn't it only natural that he wanted his father's love and affection?

All he got lately was the cold shoulder and harsh commands, _not_ requests—he ordered his son around as if he too were just a simple slave, no more worth than that of garbage.

When the prickling of water burned behind his lids, Atem hastily wasted no time in wiping it away, sighing tiredly as he hummed a familiar tune to himself, one that his mother had sung to him prior her demise; it was reassuring, almost comforting to hear, as it brought back all of the fonder memories he had, when his father and himself were all still a family—his mother had been the glue that held them together, but now that she had gone... everything had gradually fallen away at the seams.

A frustrated grunting noise made its presence known to Atem, whom turned over on his side only to see a young girl with tousled brown hair jumping up in the air frantically, trying to reach something up in the leaves; with a small smile, Atem stood, straightening out his tunic once again before sauntering over to the tree upon which she so desperately tried to overcome, her height an annoying impediment as she tried in utter futility to reach the prize that was nestled away in its leaves.

Coming up from behind her, Atem reached up, just as she did another amazingly vain jump, her small, girlish hands looking small next to his as he reached up, not even needing to stand on his toes as he plucked one of the crimson skinned fruits from the tree, watching as the girl spun around with utter admiration and thanks burning in her cyan orbs as she grinned gleefully up at him, her round, plush face so plump next to his sharper, more angular face; were all females so soft and fragile looking?

"Thank you so much!" The girl exclaimed cheerily, before waving at him and running off, biting into the flesh of the fruit as she did so.

_'All that struggle just for a measly apple... what a wonder she is...' _Atem mused in his mind with a smile, watching as she joined another group of squealing children, the tugging in his stomach making him feel ill; once again, whatever source of solace and company he had had was now gone, leaving him alone to ponder upon the un-pleasantries that plagued him.

His brow had furrowed as he took an agonisingly slow step toward where the children now played tag under the blaring heat and watchful gaze of Ra, only to be stopped mid-step by the all too familiar deep voice of Mahad, whom was walking at a hasty pace to reach his prince's side; he offhandedly wondered whether his voice too would grow to be as baritone, if not more so, than that of his surrogate brother's—only the future could tell.

"My prince."

Turning on his heel to face the older boy –soon to be a man–, Atem couldn't help but feel the familiar bubbling sensation he always procured whenever in the presence of the dark haired teen kindle in his stomach, only to be seconds later recognised as relief, surprise and excitement; finally his friend was free of his father's wretched clutches!

"Mahad! What brings thee here? Were you not in a meeting with father?" Atem feigned confusion, but the happiness of his faithful 'servant's' return was all too real as he restrained himself from latching onto the older boy's frame; he had a feeling that once and if he did, he would not be able to unhand him—the possessive jealousy was always there, waiting to rear its ugly head at any and all that dared take him away.

"I was, but my real charge is to always make sure that you are safe from harm; as I recall, you were supposed to be in your quarters, were you not? I was quite unnerved to find out that you were watching the _arrangements_ that your father the Pharaoh had planned for me this evening."

Atem couldn't hide the shameful blush that painted his cheeks as he looked at the ground, fidgeting slightly as he tried to come up with words to say; it all happened in the blink of an eye. One moment Mahad was stern yet understanding, before switching to protector mode as he yelled out a harsh, "Prince, look out!" Said boy's eyes flickered up just in time to see a brown king cobra rearing its head, swaying from side to side before leaning backwards, snapping forward with lightning speed and precision, fangs dripping with lethal venom as it went to sink the incisors into the flesh of the prince's arm; before any contact could be initiated, Mahad's fast instincts kicked in, and without any thought to it he stabbed his arm through the humid air, blocking the angry serpent's path and ultimately enraging it more.

The snake sunk it's fangs into Mahad's toned wrist, latching on with painful meticulousness as it drew much blood, the crimson liquid flowing steadily down his forearm until it met his fingertips, dripping soundlessly to the ground as it allowed the venom to spread; Mahad hissed inaudibly, wincing at the sharp puncturing sensation in his upper wrist, before clutching the cold blooded reptile firmly in his other hand, tearing it from the flesh of his arm and throwing it into the nearby bushes, the faint scuttling of leaves and twigs shifting all that remained as evidence of its existence; that, and the bite mark the dark haired teen had collected.

Atem choked on a sob as he cried out to Mahad, whom just smiled weakly at the young prince before stumbling sluggishly, the effects of the poison finally setting in; the young boy caught a hold of him before he could collapse to the ground, worry glistening in his wet eyes as he gazed intently at the puncture marks on the hollow of his wrist. With a determined glance at Mahad, Atem raised the injury to his lips, intent on removing the poison when Mahad's outraged voice filled the air.

"Prince, what do you think you are doing? That is dangerous, even for you who is left unharmed!" Atem just shook off his friend's concern, before looking directly into his sapphire blue orbs with his own violet ones, concern and affection lining their depths as he spoke in hushed tones.

"Mahad, I am the very reason that you came out of this injured, so I wish to do what I can to save you! I will stop the venom from entering your system!"

The dark haired teen's eyes widened as he watched Atem clamp his lips to his heated flesh, the wet warmth of his mouth almost comforting, easing and dulling the throbbing pain that was coursing up his arm as he sucked gingerly, drawing fresh blood tainted with eggplant coloured liquid into the confines of his cavern, before spitting it out and onto the ground, reattaching his mouth firmly to the smooth skin, the salty taste of sweat sticking to Atem's tongue as he drew out more of the blasted fluid, repeating his earlier process until he was sure that his blood was clean enough; they would have the best medicine men put onto his case upon their immediate return to the palace.

The prince then gazed up at the taller teen, eyes sparkling in the sunlight as he smiled softly, warming Mahad's heart completely as he said very quietly, only meant for his ears,

"Thank you... _Atem_..."

* * *

The sun was setting over the horizon, signalling the arrival of Mahad's ascension, the ball and feast that had been thrown in his honour lavish and becoming of a High Priest such as he, but Atem still paced anxiously, not wanting this evening to commence nor conclude; he was indeed proud of and joyous for Mahad's 'promotion', but what was to occur, after all lighting had been dimmed, and all doors closed?

He did not wish to see his beloved and trusted friend and brother give up all rein on his chastity, to a simple whore! It should be out of love and mutual understanding, not just some fling that would not oversee any longer than a single night!

Growling in frustration, Atem kicked his bed, his mind all but numb to the pain that shot up his leg momentarily; his maids desperately tried to soothe him and his temper, but it seemed that the more they tried to help, the worse his mood became—luckily a knock on the door saved them the trouble of being verbally assaulted... not that Atem would ever do such a thing; it was both unbecoming of one of his lineage, and plainly out of character for him anyways.

Hushed whispers of protest were exchanged, before the figure outside convinced them to leave the room, although reluctant, having no other choice but to bend to his will; turning, stark naked in all his glory, the prince eyed the newcomer, only to see the form of Mahad, smiling fondly as if he had not noticed his current state of undress.

He was adorned in attire fitting of any form of royalty, distant or otherwise, with a white and gold tunic emblazoning his tall, lean stature, gold amulets and jewellery clutching his wrists (covering the bandages that adorned the right), ankles and neck, gold plates sitting on his shoulders as a sign of high status, earrings hanging with a lustrous shine to them, glowing orange in the faded light that was produced from the sunset; he was the picturesque image of a God, his gold sandals and Head Priest's veil completing the look with no flaws detected—he was simply perfection.

"Mahad? What is it that you wish to speak with me about? I have yet to bathe and dress for this occasion, your honorary celebration, and yet here thee are. I beseech thee, what seems to ail you so?" Atem was painfully formal, aware that there was more or less likely to be eavesdroppers hanging around outside his quarter's door, and he didn't want them to suspect anything out of the ordinary; after all, this was master addressing the servant, as they called it so vulgarly so.

Mahad seemed slightly startled with the cold detachment that rung out from the prince's throat, but before he thought to question him, Atem made gestures similar to the one where his father would order one's execution, eyes practically screaming for him not to speak of it; his commands were all he needed to remain quiet as he heard the faint shuffling of feet and clothing rustling on the other side of the wooden barricade, hushed whispers bringing a slight smirk to the dark haired teen's face, an unusual occurrence indeed.

"My prince, I wish to speak with thee before my ceremony commences; if you will?"

Atem smiled slightly, nodding curtly at him, before gathering his robe and covering his body, the night's chill starting to affect him in unpleasant ways, sauntering carefully onto his balcony so as to not disturb the peace of the people; Mahad followed loyally, kneeling in respect before erecting himself into a standing position, eyes narrowed yet warm as he approached the tense prince, whom had foresaw what was to happen next.

"Prince, it seems that you are not pleased with the events of this evening. Or at least, part of it. What is it that so scorns you from my favour? What bothers you so, Atem?"

The use of his name was all that was needed before the boy turned, his inflorescent hair swaying with the wind as tears gathered, his fears all too real as he finally faced the man, losing all indifference to him, all composure slipping as he met his stolid gaze with his own.

His next words were all that he need have said before Mahad had him in his arms, holding him close as if he would break at any imminent moment.

"I fear so much that you will tire of me and leave me all alone, _again_!"

* * *

Atem breathed in a steadying breath, before slowly raising his right arm so that it was on a slight angle above his head, lifting the heavy red drapes of silk from his view until it rested on him temporarily, the prince throwing the crimson barricade over his head as he walked into the large throne room, which was now decorated for the feast that was about to unravel; he spotted his father socialising with several brawny men that looked slightly suspicious to the prince, but he thought better of mistrusting his father's judgement.

His violet eyes flickered around the large space, seeking out the form of the man whose celebration this was dedicated to, landing on some very unfamiliar faces, before stopping upon a group that he knew all too well; Karim, Bobasa, Shada and his father's vizier Siamun Muran were all gathered around the dark haired priest, clutching his hands and shoulders as a way of congratulating him on his 'conquest'.

Atem sighed in relief, finally ready to approach him himself to give a few meaningful words of congratulations. As he stepped forward to do so, however, a rather forceful push forwards had him tumbling to the ground, an unknown source of weight added to his back as he grunted quietly, lying motionless as the figure atop him stirred; many were alerted of this sudden act, and no sooner had it happened that Atem's father had the guards hurtling towards him, Mahad the first to be by his side as he helped remove the lighter body from his.

"Guards! Capture that girl and throw her into the dungeon!"

A harsh, feminine cry cut through the cool air as her captors hooked their arms around her, the young child squirming for dear life.

"If you do not cease your movement, _girl_, then we shall throw you overboard and let you become Sobek's dinner!" One of the enraged guards hissed as her foot collided with his face, her whole body jerking in the vain attempt to escape; Atem crouched as he tried to regain his senses, raising his sullen eyes to meet that of the young girl he had helped earlier in the afternoon.

Without thinking, his voice rang out, immediately halting the guards in their movements; they had learned to take orders from all forms of royalty, no matter how young they appeared.

"_Unhand her_! Father! That girl did no wrong unto me! I implore you, cease this! She did nothing of any consequence!" Pharaoh Aknamkanon gazed at his son thoughtfully, before smiling in a kind way, snapping his fingers together and ordering them to release the girl. How his son was growing...

Atem straightened with a flustered look in his father's direction, grateful that he had listened to his request, before approaching the clearly distressed young girl, whom looked no older than he, if not younger.

"What be your name, little one?" He asked carefully, brushing her hair out of her face as she looked up at him shyly, cyan eyes watering as she spoke mutedly,

"M-M-Mana." Atem smiled; at least now he knew her name—after their earlier escapade, he had forgotten to ask. "That is a very pretty name. I am Atem; I do apologise about before—my father has a rather nasty tendency to overlook—"

"Y-You're the Pharaoh's son?" Mana choked out, eyes wide with awe and reverence as she gazed up at him through thick black lashes; she looked so innocent from that angle...

"Yes, I am. Although I do hope that we can be friends, seeing as I rather lack that sort of company right now..." Atem's eyes dulled as he thought about what was to happen with Mahad after this 'coronation'; the chocolate haired girl stared at him stupidly for a mere second before engulfing him in an embrace, shocking him more so than that of her toppling on top of him only moments ago.

"Yes, yes, yes! Of _course_ I want to be your friend! Wait, does that mean I have to call you 'Your Eminence', or 'Prince' or something? 'Cause there is _no way_ that I wanna speak to a friend like he's made of a brick wall or something!"

Mana kept babbling on and on about what they should do together, how they were going to escape this little 'party' as she so oddly put it, and which exit they should use to escape from; Atem couldn't help the smile that graced his lips, before a rather unusual question flitted across his mind.

"Mana, if I may have the privilege to ask... how old are you?" The dark haired girl stopped mid-sentence as she contemplated his enquiry, raising her hands in front of her face as she counted off, eyes rolling upwards as she whispered inaudibly under her breath; Atem felt the urge to face-palm, but shoved the itching sensation away as he awaited her reply.

After several _excruciating_ minutes of counting and re-counting, Mana finally grinned and held her semi-dirty hands up in front of his face, the abrupt movement causing him to back up a few steps. "I'm eight!" She declared proudly, the number her fingers showing contradicting that with a seven; well, at least Atem had made a friend that was more or less enthusiastic and cheerful, rather than bright beneath her cranium.

Sighing with a faint smile, he raised his violet eyes to hers, and together they wandered off until the night's proceedings began.

* * *

Atem twisted and turned in his bed, the light linen sheets crumpling with the repetitive tossing and turning he was subjecting it to; it had been hours since the night had digressed, and yet there was still no sign of Mahad. He had promised that after he had finished conducting his 'rights to passageway', he would immediately come to stay in his quarters for the night; perhaps he had been delayed, or the process of bedding another took longer than he had initially thought.

In all honesty, he didn't want to know.

His heart was racing, _bleeding_, as he longed for his friend's arrival, but it happened none too soon; as the darkness of the night finally claimed him, a single tear slid from the crevice of his left eye to meet the loose fabric beneath him, staining the sheets just as Mahad had corrupted his innocence.

* * *

Atem shifted slightly as he felt the sudden tilting of his bed, another heavy body leaving its indentation as it crawled silently across the mattress, aiming not to disturb the unperturbed, slumbering prince; it did not work, as the boy's eyes flew open, snapping up to meet the gaze of the dark haired teen himself, a slightly more relaxed look to his sharp, handsome features as his cool blue eyes regraded him softly in the dimmed moonlight.

"M...a..h..ad...?" Atem croaked out groggily, sleep thickly lacing his voice as he pushed himself upward onto his left forearm, eyes bleary as he tried to distinguish the teen's solid form through teary eyes; Mahad only nodded in indication, before gently pushing the exhausted prince back down onto the sheets, lying alongside him as he draped the doona over their bodies, Mahad's extra warmth radiating from his body and raising the hairs on Atem's arms (which were soon to be shaved off); he had adjusted to the cold without realising, and now that he had warmth... he hadn't realised that he craved it so much until then. In fact, the only warmth he would ever crave would be that of the man beside him, who pulled him closer as if sensing his need.

"I apologise, prince; I was delayed, and did not realise that you would suffer so much from the chill. I am here now, so please be at ease and rest."

Atem nodded tiredly, before snuggling into the heated skin of the man he referred to as 'brother', all the while ignoring the lingering scent of sweat and perfume emanating off of him.

"Mahad?" Atem asked as sleep slowly crawled over him, eyes fluttering closed as he yawned half-heartedly.

"Mm?" Was his simple reply, but it said it all; indeed he had ascended the path a boy, and left it a man.

"You'll never leave me alone again, ever, right?"

Just as he teetered on the edge of a peaceful dream, Mahad's deep voice penetrated the darkness, bringing out all the light that he had ever had in his life until that point, the tears of joy clinging to his lashes as Mahad met the same fate too.

"Never, Atem..."

* * *

**a/n: Woot! Fini! End of Chapter 2: Coming of Age! Hope this was satisfactory! **

**Oh, and a little side note for those of you that aren't versed in Egyptian History like I am; back in the days of Pharaoh, those of royal or high status had all pubic hair shaved off with a blunt knife, as well as leg and arm hair, as it was a sign of purity and cleanliness—the only hair needed was that of their eyebrows and of course what was on their heads! Please review! Pocky and dango in it for ya! ^.- **

**Or maybe it should be an Egyptian delicacy...?**

**Arigato gozaimashite! ^^**

**Ja! x)**

***-Sasukeluva 4eva out-***


	3. Chapter 3: The Festival Of Anket

a/n: Ha-HA! I bring thee the third chapter of 'Eyes Like Yours'! Hope that you guys like it! XD

**NOTE: Again, like last chapter, another time skip; Mahad's birthday is the 25****th**** of October, but in this chapter it is mid July of the NEXT year (meaning that Atem is now eleven), when the Festival of Anket begins (from the 19****th**** of July onwards, to the 17****th**** of August).**

* * *

Chapter 3

The Festival of Anket

* * *

The hustle and bustle of the town square was unbelievably inconvenient, especially for the young prince, whom was wandering idly through the familiar twists, turns and alleys that he had come to know quite well in all his eleven years of life, grunting agitatedly as yet another rude bystander shoved passed him, yelling profane expletives as he chased after the alleged 'thief' that had made off with his produce.

_'Serves the discourteous buffoon right; I would like to think that that child escapes unscathed, so that he may yet live to see another day.'_

Atem thought with a smirk, violet orbs glistening in the sunlight as he strolled at a comfortable pace through the centre, letting his gaze fall upon the elderly that aided in assisting the preparation for the Festival of Anket; the event itself marked the most ancient of Egyptian traditions, where the people of the country gathered by the palace to celebrate the rising of the River Nile, aside from the near obviousness of the occasion—it all started with _'Thuthi'_, the seasonal commemoration of all the past conflictions between the Gods before them, the ones they worshipped so avidly.

The winter chill had barely registered to the people of Egypt, the blazing heat of the sun during the daytime signalling otherwise; the evenings always seemed to slowly but surely drop in temperature, beginning from bearable, moving onto mildly uncomfortable, to finally insufferably freezing, the young prince moving to regularly share his warmth with that of Mahad, as he was sure that his father was already provided with that same service thanks to the concubine he regularly bedded; the bitterness he felt toward the woman only grew as he came to understand things more clearly—he grew more cold and distant to his father due to the lack of love and affection, gradually drifting away as the years went by.

Indeed he was no longer a child; he was growing up into an adolescent, slowly but surely—he still had six years until he was to be initiated as a man, but that was surely going to fly by with haste, right?

Sighing tiredly, Atem stopped to rest by the closest wall, violet eyes losing their lustre as he let them droop to a gradual close, his long, thick black lashes sticking together with sweat as he let himself drown in the heat of the Sun, relishing in its rays as he pondered as to the whereabouts of Mahad; he had informed the prince that due to inescapable circumstances, he had to leave with the Pharaoh on some business in the neighbouring kingdom, to the Lower regions of Egypt apparently flooded with bandits that were pillaging and wreaking havoc upon its people—what an awful prospect that was.

Atem dearly hoped that that would never happen to his home, nor for his loved ones to return wounded; that would clearly be a sign of ill omen.

Pushing himself from the wall, the boy then proceeded onward, waving at the passersby as they recognised him in all his glory, manic, excited gesticulations being directed at him as hushed whispers coursed through the gathered people, soon escalating into cheers and kind compliments to him and his health, the group splitting apart so that he could walk freely up the pathway without being trodden on or knocked about; Atem smiled at their considerate motions, but knew that deep down the only reason that they even bothered was because of his lineage, who he was born to, and what he was soon to become, not because of him as a person—had he been any other not of high status in the Egyptian society, then he would surely be trampled on without much quarrel by others.

That was just how his country-folk were, and nothing in mother-nature could ever sway them and their faiths, beliefs.

The familiar sensation of longing, the longing to be accepted for who he was as a person, the longing to be smothered with attention, everything a ten year old prince could have ever wanted curled up in his stomach, the sickening realisation that these things he could not have making him feel ill to the pits, the heat suddenly feeling intolerable as he stumbled toward shade, perspiration coating his cheeks as he slid to the ground alongside a cool palm tree, panting slightly as he gasped for air, the feeling of vomiting only increasing as he prepared himself for the worst; an intimidating shadow obscured the space before the prince's feet, causing him to raise his head in time to see a very unhappy, disgruntled peasant glaring down at him, his ragged clothing only bearing more similarities to that of one whom was completely ruined, insolvent—and it looked as if Atem had done him wrong, when really that had not been the intention.

"Oi! Whatcha think ya doin' on mah turf, brat? Fuck off!"

Why, the prince had never been so insulted in his life, and all the rage burning within him insinuated by a meagre little flea such as the one before him!

Such vulgarity was not permitted to the face of the son of the Pharaoh, Aknamkanon!

"How dare thee speak to me in that manner? I was merely resting here, catching my breath, and one of _your_ stature approaches thy in such an unbecoming fashion; what is it that sways thee to be so indecently boorish?"

Atem spat angrily, feeling an unusual kindling of burning rage residing within him as he glared at the drunkard before him, assessing him with sharp eyes as if making sure that he was actually as foolish in his folly as he seemingly appeared; that seemed to be the final straw for the towering beanpole.

"You little _shit_! I'm gonna make yer life livin' _hell_, starting with _this_!"

The man roared, raising his fist to punch him in the face, the toned arm of pure muscle snapping down toward his left cheek, only to have another body throw themself in the line of fire, a horrendous snapping noise filling the air as they let out a shrill, broken cry, all female as they collided with the hard ground, several resounding _'cracks!'_ filling the deathly silent air; Atem had flinched his eyes shut, awaiting the burning pain that was surely to have been caused by the blow, only to crack them open to see a distinctly female body crumpled on the cragged earth affront him, figure racked with tremors as she tried feebly to stand, only to moments later collapse from the strain.

He was at her side within seconds, gently pulling her upright until she rested against his chest, his violet orbs assessing her damage; a broken jaw, the swelling and disjointed angle only proving it, and what appeared to be a broken arm, as well as a few cracked ribs—her inky black hair obscured her face from view, her pants coming out thickly as she whimpered from the agony her injuries had induced, tears leaking from her eyes and landing with soundless abandon on his forearms.

Atem's fury escalated to the point where there was no way of restraint.

"What be thy meaning of this? Harming another when unable to wound the one in which you intended? How is this in any way 'just'? You hurt an innocent bystander—"

"Heh, so mah whore of a daughter interferes yet again! Why is it that you are always _so_ persistent in _ruining_ my life? That fucking _slut_ of a mother! I'll _kill_ her for this! You have gone _too_ far this time, Isis! I swear by this hand, I'll have your heads _rolling_, you and that bitch of a concubine!"

The man growled as he raised another brutal fist, only to have his arm sliced off from the impact of a sword, blood spurting from the remaining joint as he screamed in pain, howling as he went to clutch the stub, only to be thrown to the ground seconds later by a lean figure, shorter than the man, but not by much, the sword's blade smothered in crimson as the liquid dripped to the broken soil and sand; Atem's eyes widened as he looked up at the male, from behind having a striking resemblance to Mahad, but too short in terms of both height and hair length, confusion littering their indigo depths as he watched the young boy approach the whimpering drunkard, stopping just centimetres before him, sword point pressed to his throat.

"What, by any standards, gives thee the right to attempt to commit _treason_ against the _Pharaoh's_ _son_?"

The male hissed vehemently, sending a violently powerful kick into the man's chin, the victim smashing into the far wall of the alley, many bystanders watching the feud with awed expressions; no one had ever stood up to _that man_ and ever lived to tell the tale, much less beat him into such a state.

The cowering amputee absorbed his words slowly, the light-bulb clicking in his head as his wild brown eyes sought out that of the young lad he had tried to kill, only to realise that he indeed bore the insignia of royalty, _Pharaoh's_ royalty; what he had just attempted... _death_ was a lavish punishment next to some of the methods of torture they had concocted over the millennia.

"I-I-I-I h-had n-no i-idea that h-he w-was the o-offs-spring of His Eminence, I swear it to Ra himself!"

He choked out through mouthfuls of blood, the amount he was losing ensuring him a quick death; the young male no older than Atem just laughed sarcastically, knowing full well that even if he had been aware, he would have been either too inebriated or just plain moronic and done it anyway, without aberrance of the consequences—he was to suffer dearly for his mistake.

"As a faithful servant of his Majesty the Pharaoh, I am to see to it _personally_ that you are tortured _mercilessly_ without an ounce of remorse; it is the _least_ that I have to offer for someone whom has insulted a near _demi-god_!"

With that he called upon the foreign-looking guards that had remained at the side of the riot, making sure to prevent any locals from intervening with their master's punishment, the two strong, very capable men hauling the man to his feet and dragged him away, kicking and screaming the entire way, forgetting the fact that he only had one good arm to hit with now that he had lost the other.

Atem was astonished by the sheer _command_ this boy had over both himself and everyone in his presence, the confidence that he exuded making the prince feel inferior in his company—what he wouldn't give to be more like that...

Turning his attention back to the limp girl in his arms, Atem noticed to his profound shock and embarrassment that this young girl was older than she had originally appeared, her frame curvy and slender, semi-large breasts accentuating her picture perfect figure as she raised her gaze to meet his, sapphire meeting violet for the first time; she really _did_ suit the name she had been given, even amongst the dirt, grime, scratches and bruises—she was the embodiment of the goddess Isis herself.

"Are you alright? Are you in much pain?"

Atem asked quietly, assuring her with his voice alone that everything would indeed be alright; Isis nodded in affirmation, that she was indeed in quite a large amount of pain, but was never the less okay—she had just saved the life of the boy that would one day be the Pharaoh after all, and had protected and defended her from her abusive, drunk of a father.

How she had managed to maintain her maidenhood under the same rooftop as him was a mystery that constantly evaded her.

With a small sound that came off similar to that of relief, Atem shifted her slightly, so that he was in a more suitable position to carry her back to the palace; he would have only the best see to her wounds after all that she had done for him without fail.

The trudging of quick footfalls was what was prominent to the young prince as the looming shadow of the young teen was suddenly before him, coming to a direct halt in his path; with a befuddled expression thrown in his direction, the boy with dark brown hair simply took the girl from his grasp, gently cradling her frame to his as he turned to leave, barking an order to have someone fetch the prince from his current position and get him safely back to his home.

Atem reflexively called out to him, wanting to ask him just one thing.

"Wait, I implore you! What is thy protector's name?"

The boy in question halted mid-step, silently contemplating before angling his head over his shoulder, his stern cerulean orbs locking with his as he muttered a simple,  
"My name is Seto, prince, and that is all that thee need know for the present time."

And with that the boy named 'Seto' stormed off in a storm cloud of sand and dust, carrying the broken girl in his arms to the nearest medicine man.

As Atem got to his feet shakily, a deep, familiar voice thundered through the air, silky and suave yet concerned and enraged all at once as he ran at full force toward the barely standing prince, catching him in his strong arms just as he went to collapse again.

"My prince!"

Mahad hauled the boy into his protective embrace, turning in the direction in which he had just come, cradling Atem to his chest as he made haste toward the palace.

* * *

"I told thee, father, I am well and unscathed; what I am worried about is the young girl that shielded me from the fury of that uncouth peasant man!"

Atem gritted out impatiently, bouncing on the balls of his bare heels as his father sat before him on his bed, concern radiating off of him like any normal father; he had arrived back to his kingdom from another pillaged village, only to find out that his son was almost very nearly beaten to death by a drunk abusive bastard, surely one of Set's offspring.

But Aknamkanon couldn't help but smile at his son's blunt sincerity; he _desperately_ wanted to know if the girl, Isis, was alright.

Sighing tiredly, Aknamkanon shook his head, signalling his declination of the topic; they had to attend the Feast of Anket, and it was nearing twilight, and could not be late, as that would be a sign to the Gods that they were not worshipping them as proper demi-gods should.

Atem's torn expression was enough for Mahad to intervene, desperate to see him smile once again.

"My liege, if I were to go in my prince's stead, would that be a feasible excuse to miss the evening's proceedings? To put your son's heart at ease?"

Aknamkanon rubbed his beard thoughtfully, before letting a grand smile spread across his features, making the room seem lighter as his eyes warmed at the idea.

"Yes, yes, that would be for the best; the future Pharaoh of Egypt cannot afford to miss the Gods' blessings after all! Excuse yourself Mahad, and make haste, as I believe that my son wishes to spend some quality time alone with you!"

Atem flushed scarlet at the comment, whilst the dark haired man only chuckled half-heartedly, pulling the young prince into a brief embrace before exiting the room, Atem's cheeks exploding into a whole new shade of crimson; Aknamkanon was thoroughly amused by the events that had transpired before him, but he still had a matter that he needed to tend to.

Standing abruptly, the Pharaoh turned to leave when he thought better of it; there were a few things that his son needed to know.

Atem was surprised but not shocked that his father was leaving, but when he turned to face him, an expression he hadn't seen since a small child plastered across his face... he honestly didn't know what to expect.

So when his father pulled him into a taut embrace, Atem could have sworn he was dreaming; his father hadn't even _touched_ him in what seemed to be many long years, but a hug, out of the blue?

It was more than he could have ever asked for.

"I am so relieved... _so_ relieved! That my son is unharmed! Not because he is my only heir, but because he is my flesh and blood! You are my flesh and blood! And if anything were to have happened to you..."

Aknamkanon trailed off, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled his son back by the shoulders so that he could get a better look of him; it felt like he hadn't really gazed upon his son in so many millennia!

After a few moments of silence, he knelt down in front of the dumbstruck prince, cupping his cheeks in his palms as he whispered a soft, "I love you, my son; I always have, and I always will, no matter where I am or how far apart we may be—remember that."

With a numbed nod, Atem smiled at his father, a smile he hadn't shown for all too long gracing his lips as the Pharaoh stood, striding purposefully toward the door... before turning around once more and speaking in what seemed to be an uplifted voice.

"Oh, and Atem? Who was it that you said protected you and the girl?" Without really thinking it through, the prince simply murmured a soft, "He said his birth name was 'Seto', father."

Aknamkanon froze on the spot, his expression hardening as many thoughts raced through his mind.

_'How can __**he**__ be—? Everyone __**died**__ in that fire...! So how is that __**he**__ is still...?'_

"Father? How be thy feeling? Is there something ailing you?"

Atem asked in a rush, obviously worried that his father was not feeling well; with a reassuring smile, the Pharaoh simply kissed his son's forehead, ruffled his inflorescent hair, and stormed out of the room, leaving an astonished prince in his wake.

* * *

The feast had proceeded as planned, nothing of the sort going wrong; the palace's residents took to the residual celebrations after everything had settled, leaving it to be an evening to both remember and despise—how was anyone going to find slumber when the loud cries of ecstasy echoed in every crevice of the fucking citadel?

Atem found himself tossing and turning once again, the night's air having more of a bite to it than usual, the thin sheets doing nothing to prevent the cold from seeping into his system; after several minutes more of the repetitive motion, before he stood and strolled quietly down the hallway, so as to not disturb any of the other inmates.

Atem only realised just as he was outside Mahad's door that he was away, most likely joining in on the 'aftermath' of the festivities; it was a well known fact that all of any status could leisure in the freedom of being able to bed anyone of their choice, and since Mahad had not yet returned... a sorrowful sigh of despair left Atem's lips as he slumped to the cold floor, wrapping himself into his own arms as he cried himself to sleep waiting.

* * *

Mahad slowly made his way into the decrepit old shack, the wood and clay falling apart due to overexposure to moisture and termites; he hadn't expected it to take so long to find a simple ruined building used for refuge, but it had, and now here he was, wandering around in the dark.

With a tired sigh, he trudged onwards, noting that the wood beneath his feet creaked and moaned in protest as he sidled forward, the feeling of breaking clay the next texture his gold sandals came into contact with; a faint luminescent glow of orange tinged the floor ahead as he slowly made his way down the passageway, pushing the door with little regard for personal space—he wanted this over with, as his prince was awaiting his return.

The sight he was blessed with almost nearly had him do a double-take as he took in those all too familiar features, the ones that he had promised to save all those months ago; long, unkempt black hair, sharp facial structure, large, open, innocent sapphire orbs—it was her.

Isis.

Her eyes shot up to meet his face, a shocked expression remaining there as he slowly sauntered in to where she sat in the rickety, broken bed, a smile making its way to his face as he spoke to her for the first time in over a year.

"Well, it is a profound pleasure to reacquaint with you, Isis."

* * *

Atem awoke feeling more numb than he had ever been in his entire life, shaking and trembling as he crawled to his feet, slowly staggering back toward his room, only to make a complete stop in front of a familiar door, that was left open for the first time in a long while; the sleeping form of his father resided there, peaceful and unperturbed in slumber—could he really disturb that?

As he went to walk away, a groggy, sleep-thickened voice echoed softly in the eerie silence, stopping the prince in his tracks almost instantaneously.

"A...tem... come here... you...are co...ld... right?"

Aknamkanon didn't realise that his son had been awake for so long, but from the looks of him he seemed to be frozen with chill, the frosty air nipping at his tanned skin to leave an unpleasant tinge of blue in its wake; all he knew was that without Mahad's warmth, he would not be able to be at ease with himself, so he lifted his thicker quilt, urging the boy to crawl under whilst the warmth remained.

Although he may have seemed hesitant at first, the general thought of body heat was enough to convince him otherwise, the prince crawling in alongside his father as he draped the comforter over them, an arm tugging the cold boy closer as he let his warmth seep into Atem's system, sleep washing over him faster than it had in a very long time—that night, for the first time since a small infant, Atem slept curled up in the loving embrace of his father, the warmth never yielding even as his arms eventually slipped away from him.

* * *

**a/n: There is the end to Chapter 3: The Festival of Anket! **

**I hope that this was alright for you guys to read! ^.- **

**Please review! **

**They really make writing worthwhile! XD**

**Ja! x)**

***-Sasukeluva 4eva out-***


	4. Chapter 4: Audience With The Pharaoh

**a/n: Hmmm, it seems that I have already gotten to chapter 4 of this fic... doesn't seem like I started it that long ago either... oh well! **

**Better for you readers out there, if any... **

**Here it is then, minna! **

**Enjoy! ^.-**

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Chapter 4

Audience with the Pharaoh

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Atem yawned tiredly as he sauntered slowly through the bright golden hallway, each step he took heavy and weighted as his bleary violet eyes shifted to the passing servants, whom were carrying his father's breakfast to his chamber; the young prince was still quite astounded as to the proceedings of the previous evening, but was silently pleased with the unusual turn of events—perhaps he and his father could mend the damage that had been done unto their bonds and return things back to how they had once been, superseding all else that had been placed before him.

That thought alone brought a cheery, crisp smile to his handsome features as he picked up his pace, hoping to surprise his tutors by arriving a little earlier than that of what was normal for the slightly tardy young prince; his father had been less than pleased when he had found that his son was instead of studying playing with the peasant children of the palace.

Atem never wanted a repeat of the lecture that he had received from his fuming father; if Set was said to have been the epitome of all evil incarnation, then surely he too would cower in the presence of the displeased, thoroughly enraged Pharaoh.

Shuddering at the memory, Atem's trotting became a light jog as he pounded down the stone stairwell, keen on arriving before his mentors did; as the young prince rounded a corner, however, he ran into a startlingly familiar body, stumbling backwards slightly as he vainly tried to regain his composure—a pair of strong, firm hands latched onto his shoulders, rooting him in place of where he currently stood, the royal boy at one point struggling to stop himself from falling only staring at the large tanned hands that were gripping his small shoulders, wondering how on earth they had managed to prevent his tumble.

Raising his violet orbs, the young prince almost very nearly reeled at the sight of the young boy only known as Seto, whom was looking at him with mild concern, yet was somewhat amused by the prince's reaction to his presence; his sapphire orbs only indicated his ludicrous hilarity of the situation by glowing several different shades of blue, a small smirk emblazoning his lips as he stared back at the more or less uncomfortable figure before him.

"Prince, are thee well since we last encountered?"

"Mm!"

Atem nodded his ascent, eyes darting from his form to see if anyone he knew was present to assist him in his escape; not only was he going to disappoint his father once again by being late, but he felt slightly unnerved being within proximity of this boy—something about him gave the young prince terrible chills.

He was more dangerous on the inside than the out—that he was sure of.

"I see... Is there anything bothering you, highness? You seem... _distracted_. If I may, is there something that I can do to alleviate your stress?"

The panic only became more prominent when a lethally rapacious expression stole across his darkly handsome features, Seto's eyes narrowing slightly as he watched for the prince's reaction; without warning, he burst into a fit of raucous laughter, the deepness of it startling—it appeared that he was older than Atem had originally presumed.

The confusion he felt mirrored that of the utter bemusement that had dawned upon Seto, whom seemed a little more surprised than anything else; it appeared that he hadn't meant to startle him so, the warming expression that settled on his face enough to soothe Atem's turbulent emotions—he calmed almost instantaneously.

"Prince, if you do not make haste, thou shall be rendered tardy once more; your mentors shan't be pleased to see you arrive late for the sixth consecutive run."

Atem's eyes widened as the realisation dawned on him, and judging by the way Seto gazed at him with stern eyes, and the way the Sun cast down upon them powerful golden rays of light, he assumed that the older boy was right; he was to be scolded for being leisurely belated once more, and he was sincerely not looking forward to it.

With a rushed word of gratitude in Seto's direction, the young prince bolted down the stone hallway, dodging the thick foundations and servants along the way, pants coming out faster due to all of the obstacles in his way, always needing to find a new way to overcome them before finally darting around a sharp corner, flying down the last floor of stairs before hitting the sandy earth of mother Egypt, pumping his legs faster against the hard earth as he ran toward his sword-master's welding shop, where he was to engage in hand to hand combat and sword sparring once again, for the fourth time that week; the exhaustion he felt was nothing compared to that of _after_ his physical training—the man that taught him so was more than just a forceful brute.

He was a deadly powerhouse with endless reserves, and made it a pained point that he would take no opponent lightly, not even one whom was beneath him in all refined qualifications; even as Atem was now, physically inadequate and undeveloped, did his master of swordsmanship face him as an equal, and used his full strength in combat, leaving Atem with many welts, swelling limbs and bruises that took days to heal and fade at a time, even resorting to drawing blood in order to better him in the field—and he had no time in which to let his wounds recover before meeting fist to fist, sword to sword on the 'battlefield' once again.

But it was for the best; after all, he being the heir to the throne meant that he had to be the best in every possible aspect of life, from intellectual study and stratagem to on-field combat—that was the destiny of the Pharaoh.

Atem skidded to a halt as he stopped in front a rather large, well attained building, kempt in every way and form as he pushed the gates open, allowing the guards to close them behind his retreating figure, the men kneeling in respect as he darted passed, flying up another set of stone stairs before running down several winding corridors, his gold sandals clacking loudly against the smooth limestone pathway; turning to his right, he came to an awning that overlooked a large arena, used for the duels that took place between fellow warriors, the large space vacant and more or less available for his convenience—his teacher was nowhere within vicinity of the sandy piece of land, and Atem took it as a sign that he was indeed earlier than usual.

At the time of his usual arrival, Atem would note that his mentor would be either sparring with another fellow soldier, or training his own physicality; this indeed would be a culture shock for his master.

The young prince jumped gracefully from the terrace, landing with a resounding _'thud!'_ on the solid, craggy earth, the royal boy sidling toward the projection where the weapons were shelved according to weight, type and size, clubs, spears, maces, bows and arrows and swords all propped within the wooden confines, just begging to be chosen; Atem settled for his usual, the sword being something that he was stronger in, and gripped the handle of one that had been weighted to meet his standards, heavy enough for him to struggle with the wielding of it, but enough for him to gradually create more defined muscles in his biceps, the flimsy limbs eventually swelling to solid, moulded perfection—with that he made his way to the centre of the courtyard, and began to practice his swings, thrusts, jabs, spins and slashes, using his full focus and control to counter the imaginary adversaries that had formed in his mind.

Atem rested his full weight on his right leg, before snapping forward and spinning on the ball of his foot, landing a perfect roundhouse kick with the left, slicing it through the arid air as he flicked his wrist, the blade in his palm automatically manoeuvring in slashing motions around his hand, carving through the air with relative ease, only becoming a testament that he had indeed grown stronger, and had become a better swordsman.

He lithely stabbed the empty air, pretending that it were an enemy of Egypt, someone whom wished to destroy his beloved homeland and overtake it, drawing backward before falling to the ground, lashing out with his right foot as if he were tripping a foreign soldier, flipping backwards in time to avoid the inevitable thrusts and jabs that were to be directed at him as son of the Pharaoh, _soon to be_ Pharaoh, crouching low before darting upward, snapping forward like the king brown that had attacked Mahad all those months ago, tearing through the humid atmosphere with a fierce jab to the sky, brow furrowing in deep concentration as sweat coursed down his tanned skin.

A resounding clapping was heard from the outcasts of the terrace, Atem startled out of his fierce conflict only to see his teacher standing alongside his father, both watching with awed expressions on their faces as they gazed intently at the thoroughly exhausted young prince, whom had been training without fail for over an hour, completely drained and parched; he flushed scarlet as he realised that he had had an audience for the duration of his training session, and to know that his father had been watching?

It was thoroughly embarrassing to say the least.

His technique hadn't been strong enough, his thrusts and kicks carrying no real power; it was only a typical reaction when presented with his father, that he would note all of his supposed 'flaws' whilst being in his presence.

"A-Ah! F-Father! What is it that brings thee here?"

Aknamkanon smiled warmly as he took in Atem's sweat-slicked figure, face flushed with emanating heat after his excruciating exercise regime; never before had he seen anyone so dedicated to the practice of the sword, and he could easily determine with much measure that his son would make a fine soldier, and an unbeatable force when sheathed with blade in hand—the sheer persistence that he had conveyed with every stroke of the long blade, with every kick and punch he had thrown... it was unbelievably inspiring to watch, especially since this was his son.

No words could describe the pride that he felt.

"It seems that my son has grown into a fine warrior indeed; my gratitude to your constant guidance and support, Bomani—it has helped him to mature by bounds."

The man in question bowed deeply, caramel eyes lidded as he replied courteously, "It was my distinct pleasure, highness; your son has much promising talent, and has displayed as such—thy thinks that many great things shall happen in the prince's future, and I hope to oversee his training under my tutelage, if that is the Pharaoh's will."

Aknamkanon nodded avidly, his deep violet eyes never leaving Atem's rigid figure as he said something along the lines of 'My son shall only have the best!', Bomani nodding gratefully as he turned his soft gaze to that of his student, smiling crookedly as best he could; with the deep scars that marred his cheeks, it made it increasingly difficult to do anything that wasn't frowning or permanently scowling, but he managed it anyways, receiving an awkward one in return—even after all the time they had spent together, Atem still wasn't used to the man's constant mood changes.

He was always on his toes in case of any personality splits.

"My gratitude for your constant guidance, patience and tutelage, Baruti."

Atem said softly, bowing slightly in a sign of reverence and high regard for the man before him, whom seemed rather taken aback but pleased with the sudden gesture; Aknamkanon simply smiled, before straightening his robes and speaking with booming confidence, deep violet eyes never leaving Atem's sweat-slicked figure.

"Now, my son shall leave by my side, and progress to the throne room in the palace; thy hast a promotion that needs to be addressed, and Atem's presence is of dire necessity. So we take our leave, Bomani; may the Gods have high praise upon you and your health."

With a curt nod in the stunned warrior's direction, the Pharaoh held his hand out to his son, urging him to take hold of it; Atem stood shell-shocked and utterly dumbfounded—it was confounding to think that his father would ever even think to extend his hand to another, let alone him.

But then again, he was slowly learning that his father was more of an enigma than he had first assumed him to be; just when he thought that he had him figured out, he always managed to surprise him in ways that were frustratingly clear for the young prince.

Striding forward, although exacting extreme caution, Atem slowly held out his dirty hand, not sure whether his father would still take the sticky, unclean appendage within the confines of his own manicured, polished one, but once more he left the prince stupefied when he grasped it with no hesitation or disconcertedness written in the plains of his aged face; indeed his father was passing from the world faster than he should have, with every breath he drew, with every grain of sand that was stirred within Egypt—he would surely not live much longer, that much was certain to everyone but Atem, whom could only idolise the man and worship him for who he was, oblivious to Aknamkanon's imminent demise.

The Pharaoh smiled wearily at the now blushing child, whom was to be a man in a few short years; he was afraid that he would not live long enough to witness it for himself, so he relished the fact that he had been able to watch his son grow to this point in his life, even from afar—in spirit he had always been with him, even though Atem had not noticed this.

Aknamkanon would always be proud, of not only his achievements thus far in life, but of his son as a whole, as a person whom would one day ascend the throne as Pharaoh, king of Egypt and all of its people; he was proud of the child that he had created through the love he had for his mother, and knew with all his heart that Atem would make him proud, and would be a far better man than he—the guilt of his past wrongdoings was only a testament to that fact.

Atem gazed at his father in wonder, his brow creasing as he tried in vain to read the emotions that coursed through his dark eyes; what would cause his father to look at him like that?

Like it was the end of the world as they all knew it, and that he needed to drink in his appearance one last time before meeting his end in battle?

It was highly unnerving to say the least, but Atem swallowed his discomfort when his father turned and strode toward the outermost awning, his grip on the prince's hand never faltering even as they made their presences known to the people of their homeland; for the first time in Atem's life, he felt as if he was a part of a family once again, but most of all, he felt as if he had finally captured his father's attention, and gained his trust, pride, and more than anything else, his love.

* * *

The young prince shifted uncomfortably as he stood alongside his father's throne, Mahad faithfully remaining by his side as the proceedings began; the sweltering midday heat was unbearably uncomfortable for the already bothered prince, whom had only had time to clean off the grime from his tanned skin before abiding his father's request to join him in the throne room, and he desperately craved a meeting with Anket's creation; the very thought of cool water pressing against his flushed skin had Atem's young mind reeling—oh the basic pleasures of life that most take for granted.

With an irritable sigh, Atem tapped his sandalled foot against the stone of the large area, eyes shifting to what lay in wait outside of the palace's confines; how he wished he was anywhere else...

"Now, onto the main event; escort him in, if you will."

Aknamkanon said cheerily, a smile already on his face as the figure in question strode through the door, exuding much confidence as he knelt before the Pharaoh, eyes shadowed as he gazed stolidly at the limestone tiling at his feet, chin-length hair swaying forward with his head as he spoke with stern politeness.

"My Pharaoh. I beseech thee, to what honour brings thy hither?"

The deep undertones caught Atem's attention, as his gaze snapped back to where Seto kneeled stonily, never once raising his gaze to meet that of the deity before him; it was considered a felon to stare at a God of any shape or form without first been given permission to do so. Aknamkanon laughed airily, eyes holding an amused glint in them as he spoke, watching for the young teen's reaction.

"Ah, the apparel of youth; why is it that thy dresses so formally in my presence? But therein lies the answer—thou afraid'th of what my power and position can do forthwith. But fear not, for the matter does not lie in the 'ditty', as one may entitle it so. I have summoned thee in regards to your abetting of my son."

Seto's cool blue eyes shifted so that they lay upon the suddenly self-conscious prince, whose violet orbs darted to the floor, as if it in itself were more interesting than that of what had just unfurled; when Seto next spoke, Atem could swear that he could hear the smug smirk that had entered his tone.

"I see that the young prince is well; although it brings into question the origins of his embarrassment."

Aknamkanon's gaze moved to that of his stilled son, whom was indeed flushed in the cheeks, neck and ears, bashful about his sudden indiscretion; Atem raised his violet orbs to meet his father's, before hastily retreating them back to the floor, a loud, boisterous laugh filling in the settled din as the Pharaoh shook his head in utter hilarity, returning his inquisitive gaze back to the awaiting Seto, whose eyes remained fixed to the ground.

"Now there, lad, raise your head and meet my eyes; there shan't be consequence for committing such an act, not under my authority."

Seto obeyed without fault, his azure orbs settling on the reclined figure of the lax king, whom stared back with equal subtleness as his eyes skimmed his profile, absorbing his features with very little discretion needed; he being the Pharaoh entitled him to do so, no matter the feelings of discomfort that radiated from the victim of his penetrating, fierce gaze.

After several more moments of careful deliberation on his part, Aknamkanon nodded his ascent, smiling more to himself than anyone else as his verdict became known, the reason as to Seto's sudden summons.

"Well now my boy, as to the reason that I have asked you ro grace us with your presence; not only have you saved my son from the perils of death at such a young age, but your contribution to the upcoming battle against the bandit clan in Kul Elna has been outstanding in its own right. And to add to that, your educational scores were beyond imagining; I have never met a mere commoner that had such a high degree of intelligence! Therefore, I have undertaken to it personally to see you upped in the ranks, and shall become one of my son's future courts-men; but for now, you shall be residing in my court, alongside your fellow superior Mahad, whom shall be the one to tutor you in your role. I have high hopes and expectations for you, Seto, so do me no wrong and make me proud, and many good things shall follow for you henceforward."

Aknamkanon finished his drawling instantly, eyes awaiting Seto's reaction to the news; normally a commoner would have been on the floor kissing his feet, murmuring their hushed words of gratitude, but the Pharaoh was utterly surprised and left highly entertained when he received the exact opposite of his intention.

"I thank thee, my liege, for this opportunity; I shall work hard, and shan't disappoint, you have my word."

Atem watched the display with an alarmed expression; as much as the boy Seto unnerved him, he knew all too well what his father's temper was like when shown such a blatantly rebellious display of apathy, but once more he was left dumbfounded, and reeling right into Mahad's capable arms, whom supported him without fail as he observed the scene in stern silence, sapphire orbs narrowed in on this peasant boy 'Seto'; although they had not yet spoken, Mahad knew that he did not like this mortal child, no matter how high he was held in regard to the Pharaoh—he was a danger to Atem, and since that be the case, the dark haired High Priest was prepared to kill him in order to protect his precious charge.

Aknamkanon laughed once more, his cheery attitude surprising all as he waved off his former comment, ignoring it as if it were a mere foul odour in the air; really this child was a wondrous being.

"Yes, yes, it seems that you are already adjusting to the limelight; Mahad! Have the maids prepare him the appropriate quarters for a member of the court, and escort him around the palace. Atem, my boy, I think it appropriate for you to bathe and—"

The Pharaoh was rudely interrupted by a loud, jovial voice, one that Aknamkanon instantly recognised, the broad grin that spread across his face only a testament to that fact.

"Aknamkanon, it has been _far_ too long a time since we last laid eyes upon each other!"

A man clad in foreign royal garb swept into the large room, smiling enthusiastically as his whitened beard shifted ever so slightly with his rushed movements, the gold jewels that clung to his solid, muscular form only proving that he was a fine warrior and of the same stature of that of Atem's father, whom appeared to look much younger next to this man, when they were more or less likely to have been the same age; Atem's confusion only grew to be more so when a whole royal guard escorted into the room two other figures, as high in status as that of the other man whom had so callously addressed his father in such a boorish matter.

"Ankhkhau! What brings thee here so late into the year? Come to join in on the north's festivities for Anket?"

Aknamkanon inquired with a boyish mirth unseen in many a year as he stood none to gracefully from his throne, striding over to where his old friend and war comrade stood, arms spread in a friendly manner as he engulfed Aknamkanon into an embrace none the likes to which anyone had ever seen before; it made Atem's blood run thin watching the familiar display of manly affection, wondering why it was always someone else that had his father's attention.

"Afraid that that be not the reason as to the purpose of my unannounced visit, old friend; I have first to attend to some serious matters that concern both the pillaged villages surrounding our land, and... certain _discrepancies_ within my son's right to ascension of the throne—once we have dealt the cards, we may relish in the festive spirit."

Aknamkanon nodded fervently as he absorbed the new information, before announcing rather brashly, "Alright, be it as it may, under the strained circumstances of our people and motherland as we know it, we band together to defeat these impending predicaments so that we may be at ease for future activities; let us take our leave, Ankhkhau, so that we can overcome these trials with the sole guidance of Ra and all other Gods that protect us."

Just as they were about to leave the throne room, Aknamkanon abruptly stopped in his tracks, turning on his heel just in time to see Mahad escorting both Seto and Atem to the outer vestibule of the large gathering place, seemingly answering one of Seto's questions... or scolding him for an offhanded remark aimed directly at the young prince of eleven.

"Mahad, halt! There be a few things I need of my son, so please, take your leave and guide Seto to his resting place; the two of you shall soon be reunited, so be at ease. Atem, come hither for a brief preamble."

Atem glanced anxiously up at Mahad, whom seemed uncomfortable with the thought of entertaining the sly 'peasant boy' by his own intermission, but he reluctantly nodded his ascent, the young prince very nearly gagging at the thought of being involved in one of his father's affairs, but was not quick to defy, as he made haste toward where the Pharaoh stood, waiting for his slightly tardy son with more patience than he had ever seen in a very long time, not since he was merely an infant only just learning to walk.

Once he stood alongside his father, Atem quickly glanced at the retreating figures of Mahad and Seto, wanting nothing more than to be there with them, no matter how many mocking jeers the former commoner threw at him; it was far more appealing than being involved with someone of distinctly foreign stature.

"Ankhkhau, it be my utmost pleasure to acquaint thee with thy son, Atem, the future Pharaoh of this part of the land!"

In regards to his introduction, Ankhkhau turned his stern gaze upon that of Aknamkanon's offspring, his dark onyx eyes boring into his as he looked over the young prince's profile; then, out of nowhere, the foreign king burst into a raucous fit of laughter, clapping his hands on both Atem's and his father's shoulders, obsidian orbs sparkling with amusement as he stared at the two with keen fervency.

"There be no need to be afraid, little one! Thy thinks that you be disconcerted now that that young High Priest is out of your sight!"

Atem flushed a light shade of pink, a testament to the accuracy in which Ankhkhau's statement had lead to, only bringing more laughter, joined by that of his father, and a slightly more timid woman behind the foreign king; his embarrassment seemed to be the highlight of everyone's day thus far. As if almost remembering something important, the Pharaoh of the southern region of Egypt straightened, before turning around and grabbing the hand of the stunningly attractive woman behind, along with a sleeker form, that remained hidden from his sights, obscured by the two figures.

"Ah, now this be my beloved wife, Kamilah; as thee can see, she is the living embodiment of 'perfection'."

Said woman blushed crimson, before bowing gracefully, her pristine sapphire orbs startlingly dark next to that of Mahad's and Seto's, her long black locks tied tautly into several complicated looking plaits that had Atem wondering how on earth they managed to keep them in their place, before she returned to her original stance, face hardening considerably as she spoke with a stiff voice.

"It be a pleasure to meet you both; I hope that our nations can pull together so that we may live to rein for millennia to come."

Atem and Aknamkanon nodded in unison, Ankhkhau chuckling fondly at the sight, before stepping to the side and gesturing to the darkened figure that was obscured behind one of the foundations in the throne room, his hushed voice soothing and kind as he turned back to face the other royals, hand extended to the dark patch as he spoke.

"Now it be _my _utmost pleasure to acquaint thee with my daughter. Masika, if you will."

Atem watched intently as an unusually pale hand reached out to the extended one of the foreign king, grasping it carefully as a young girl of around his age stepped out from the shadows, her body now free to be explored to his heart's content; she was slender and tall, much more so than he, with unusual hair, black but highlighted with a crimson red, the telltale sign of a demon child, her hips wider than what he would have expected for someone of her age—being within the presence of Mana only proved this as a fact, as she was far more narrow than that of the beautiful girl before him. When his eyes rested upon her breasts for the briefest of seconds, it was enough for him to avert the area altogether, now that he had the affirmation that she indeed was voluptuous, more so than that of Isis, the young girl that had thrown herself in the path of her bloodthirsty father in order to save his life; it seemed almost uncanny that someone so young could be more developed than most twice her age, but there was the proof before his very eyes.

Her complexion still intrigued and confused the young prince though; how was it possible in Egypt to have such fair skin when the weather conditions were so harsh?

_His_ skin next to most was as fair as it could get, yet she managed to trump him with skin whiter than porcelain; what a wonder she was turning out to be.

But what really stuck with Atem, what _really_ stood out above all else, were her eyes, which had been closed whilst he silently inspected her figure, but now that they slowly fluttered open...

Atem had never seen such a beautiful sight in his young life.

Deep, emerald pools bore right back into his violet ones, and if someone were to have said that _he_ had odd coloured eyes, then nothing could have prepared them for _this_; many different shades of green were reflected, turquoise, aqua, opal, teal, apple green, forest green, and many that he could not put a name on, all swirling in those viridian depths to create a startlingly dark emerald, a stunningly gorgeous colour to match all of her unusual traits, that made her more beautiful than any living creature he had ever seen. She was the picturesque image of a goddess.

The tight white gown encrusted with many precious jewels only accentuated and added onto her outer aesthetics, making her appearance more so pleasing to his eye, the gold jewellery that clung to her wrists, upper arms, ankles, fingers, neck, ears and forehead only succeeding in projecting her splendour; either way, Atem thought that with or without the jewels, she would remain a beauty.

She gazed back at him with a semi-uncomfortable expression, before her father intervened, once again aiming to embarrass the young prince.

"It seems that your son is rather taken with my daughter already, Aknamkanon! We must rejoice! I see a future between these two!"

Atem flushed scarlet, bowing his head down whilst the two grown men laughed, the Pharaoh placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as they procrastinated; a second, cool hand joined the first, only this time clutching his in a careful 'embrace', being met with a second as he raised his gaze to meet the warm emerald orbs of the girl known as 'Masika', whom wore a soft expression on her truly lovely face as she smiled whimsically, plush pink lips pouting outwards slightly as she spoke quietly, her voice merging between low and deep and slightly high; a truly feminine voice she had.

"It is a pleasure to meet thee, my prince; my name is Masika, and I dearly hope that we can be friends from henceforward. What be thy name?"

Atem watched as her ivory cheeks were dusted with flecks of pink, Masika slightly unnerved by his intense stare, but also quite flattered; she herself had not seen such a handsome boy as he, especially one of her own age, and was feeling shier than what was normal for one of her carriage—normally she would have been used to the constant attention that she drew, but when faced with someone as equally grand as she, perhaps even more so?

Masika felt her cheeks deepen in colouration as a response to her internal debate.

Atem's violet orbs instantly melted several different shades of purple as he smiled back at her fondly, clutching her hands closer to his chest as he spoke with relative ease, surprising even himself with the sudden surge of confidence that filled him.

"My name is Atem, princess, and please only address me by this title, even in the presence of others."

Masika blushed at his sudden abruptness, the rest of the royal court paying firm attention to the scene that was now unfolding, before she felt herself nodding in response, grasping his hand with a tauter grip as she replied none too hastily, "As will you for me, Atem—as will you for me."

* * *

**a/n: End of Chapter 4: Audience with the Pharaoh! **

**Woooh, that sure took a lot out of me, trying to keep it within a certain frame of pages; I figured that this would inevitably be a longer chapter than my usual, as I had to properly introduce two of the key characters into the story, that needed to be in order for it to progress as semi-planned, so I hope that I have done them SOME justice, eheheh! **

**Hopefully they seem to be sort of IC, but if not, well... you know I tried my best, right? ^^**

**Now, just another lesson on Ancient Egyptian history, to clear a few things up before people start asking me (not that I would know, seeing as barely anyone reviews... =_=|||);  
**

_1) When I had Atem's sword-master mentioned, I had used two titles to refer to him as such; the first, _Bomani_, was the name that he had been given by the Pharaoh when he entered the court for his army regime—it means 'warrior' in ancient Egyptian. Then the second endearment that Atem used to address him, _Baruti_, is referring to him in a politer, more formal way to address him as a teacher, rather than by their name itself—it means 'teacher' in ancient Egyptian (if that wasn't already plainly obvious).  
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_2) _Kamilah_ means 'perfection' in ancient Egyptian.  
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_3) _Masika_ means 'born of/in the rain' in ancient Egyptian.  
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**Please review guys! I feel so unappreciated right now! TT^TT**

**Ja. x)**

***-Sasukeluva 4eva out-***


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